


The Invention of Loneliness

by EffieNell



Category: The Next Big One - Derek Des Anges
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Pre-Canon, Withdrawn Consent, book spoiler, emetophobia warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 00:40:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7411607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EffieNell/pseuds/EffieNell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gareth wants Ben to have a good time. Gareth is sure he is a good time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Invention of Loneliness

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for beta-reading to Moranion and to borrowedeck.

That time Ben had sex with Gareth, he knew it was a bad idea. He was drunk, which was normal for end of the month, end of the night.

It just wasn't as bad an idea as howling at the moon (which he never did, but constantly felt like doing) or crying about Maggie and hating everyone who wasn't single and alone (which he did anyway).

It was the end of the night, and Gareth had been dancing insistently closer, touching him more, finding him as soon as he came back in from cooling down/vaping. Ben knew it wasn't a good idea, but -- fuck it. Ben knew he didn't want to be alone and feel like a loser unemployed *reject*. He didn't actually *want* Gareth either. But Gareth wanted him. It was enough, for tonight.

Except when they got to the bedroom, it wasn't enough. Ben stopped and pulled back, but Gareth pushed forward, into him. Ben was backed against the wall, Gareth pushing at him, Gareth's tongue pushing into his mouth. Oh *fuck*, what happened to 'No Kissing'?

And suddenly kissing was the worst thing that they could be doing, so he pushed Gareth away and turned around, pushing his arse at Gareth's cock, just to get away from Gareth's mouth, from the kissing.

It didn't take much for Gareth to accept this distraction as an invitation, the avoidance as a come-on.

Gareth's hands were on his jeans, tugging down as Gareth walked them both over to the bed, knocking Ben down so he was arse up, kneeling, face down in the pillow, with Gareth over him mumbling “yeah, yeah,” getting Ben's jeans down. Gareth got his cock out, quickly wrapping it in a condom, mumbling something like, "not that I need to worry about you," and rubbing his hand down Ben's arsecrack. Gareth poked at Ben's arsehole, then covered his condomed cock in lube and started pressing it in, talking about how much Ben wanted it, while Ben thought mostly that he wanted to be elsewhere and thought gratefully about night buses.

Gareth got his cock in, slowly and insistently, and it burned at first and then didn't feel like anything at all.

Gareth set up a rhythm, smacking against Ben's arse, his hands on Ben. Ben remembered sex feeling good, a long time ago, with his first boyfriend. And more recently, but feeling like it was more distant in time, with M-- and his mind quickly veered away. He didn't want to think about her, not here; not with Gareth's cock sliding out and smacking back into him, the shock of it shoving him forward into the mattress, only Gareth's hands keeping him from collapsing.

There was a poster of a ukulele with a moustache on the wall, dimly lit by the streetlamp outside. Ben tried to read the names of the bands on it.

Gareth kept going, and suddenly his hand was on Ben's cock. Ben didn't know how he felt, but the motion and the friction told his cock how to feel. There he was, cock hard, rocking back and forth.

That was Ina's band on the poster, he was pretty sure.

His cock began to leak, and that was enough for Gareth. Gareth said something Ben couldn't be bothered to parse, and came, grunting, digging his fingers into Ben's shoulder. Then Gareth grabbed the condom, pulled out, smacked Ben on the arse, and got up. Ben sank onto the bed, rubbed his cock against it once, and rolled off. He fell onto the carpet, pulled his pants and jeans back up, and had his bag on his shoulder by the time Gareth came back from the bathroom.

"You're not staying?" Gareth made a disappointed face.

"Got to go," Ben said.

Ben stumbled out. He waited for the night bus, that ordinary London miracle. He checked how long there was until the bus's arrival. The red LEDs told him there was enough time. He took a few steps away, found a patch of grass, and quietly threw up.


End file.
